


Prologue to Year One

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke gets a taste of what working for Athenril will be like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue to Year One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [autumnyte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/gifts).



> This is the prologue to an unfortunately scrapped fic about Garrett Hawke's (who belongs to autumnyte) first year in Kirkwall. 
> 
> I think it stands on its own well enough as an introduction to Athenril and Tomwise.

There was death in Darktown. The scent of blood and rot hung miasma-thick in the dingy air. Soot from Lowtown foundries clung to the sandstone walls, and fell in charcoal clouds when wagons rolled overhead. With a grimace, Bethany lifted the bandana from her neck to cover her nose, then put her hand on Garrett’s forearm. She gripped him hard when a thin, gap toothed man nearly stumbled into her in an attempt to pass, the scent of sour ale hanging in his wake. Aveline followed them in silence, her pale lips pressing into a white line when a rat the size of a mabari pup lumbered past them, hissing when her foot neared it.

Athenril led them with the expected grace of an elf, easily stepping around a foul-smelling puddle and elbowing off a pickpocket when she struck, lip curling at the flood of ugly profanity the would-be thief hurled her way.

"You're going to have to do far better than that to make coin down here," Athenril said without looking at the girl sprawled on the dirt, instead throwing a glance back at Aveline and the Hawkes. "Keep that in mind."

"I hope you're not implying that you want us picking pockets." Aveline's voice was flat and stern, and she met Athenril's eyes when Bethany was unable to do so, spoke sharply when Garrett held his tongue for once.

"I certainly hope Gamlen didn't give you the impression that my crew and I are beggars--he's high on my shit list and he'll top it if he's spreading rumors. I run a cleaner operation than that," Athenril said with a wry chuckle, though her eyes narrowed. "But securing passage into the city for the three of you wasn't cheap. If that's what I wanted, you would have little choice."

"No. I suppose we wouldn't." Her jaw set and hands clenched, Aveline fell silent.

They descended deeper into Darktown, past piles of rubble, broken stairs, and the last vestiges of natural light. At the end of a crooked hallway, Athenril pushed a heavy door on rusted hinges until it slowly swung inward. An oil lantern hung on a peg just inside, and Athenril took it down, playfully offering it to Bethany. "Can I get a light?" She grinned when Bethany didn't answer, digging a match from her hip pouch to light it. They walked single-file down a windowless corridor so narrow that by the time they had reached the end, Garrett and Aveline had to twist their shoulders to the side to avoid scraping them on the stone walls. Athenril slid her hand over what looked like a dead end, and a door swung open, flooding the corridor with light and the clean smell of sea air. She blew out the lantern and hung it on a peg similar to the one on the other side of the tunnel, and ushered them through the door.

Garrett released a breath he was unaware of holding and sucked in a deep lungful of the fresh air, stepping out into the light reflecting off of the gentle waves. An expansive wooden dock stretched in front of the group, lit by white and red lanterns hung from looping ropes dangling from high rafters. They swung in the strong breeze, the air colder than in Darktown proper but clean, carrying salt and the woody scent of pine trees visible in the distance. On the left was a table made from the high polished cross-section of a tree. Two elves and one human, a tall blonde woman, sat around it with flagons and a scattered deck of cards. The dock beneath Garrett's worn boots was smooth and watertight, a long raised platform with handrails separating the loading area from a less well kept portion closer to the water. Between the dock and the platform, on the inside of the handrail, were large metal braziers, currently unlit but piled high with tinder and kindling. Thick coils of rope hung on giant hooks along the smooth stone walls, repurposed as clotheslines and coat racks and hanging racks for dried meat. On the wall opposite to the table, there were makeshift shelters created from stacks of large boxes with ceilings of scrap wood, most covered with thick canvas, though one was open, exposing bedrolls and blankets enough to hold off any amount of chill wind.

"Where'd you find this lot?" asked the smaller elf with reddish hair. A deep, jagged scar ran down the right side of his face, cutting through his shriveled, empty eye socket. "They're particularly filthy for shems."

"Hold your tongue lest someone cut it out," said the blonde woman, her words colored by a refined, noble accent.

"Arselicker." The elf snorted and stood, tossing his cards onto the table and stalking off towards the shelters, but the look on his face was plainly jovial.

"Wanker," she replied with a smile.

"Rather wank than pay for an used up old witch!" he shouted, laughing as he disappeared into an area behind the shelters.

"Charming fellow," Garrett said to Aveline, grinning though her eyes were murderous. "I bet he's invited to all the best parties." From the table, the dark-eyed elf chuckled as he reached across the table to grab the absent elf's cards.

"Children, the lot of them," the woman said and stood. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Elegant, apothecary, seamstress, and cook, among other things." As she reached them, she extended her hand, her fingers properly aimed to the floor. Garrett took her hand lightly and kissed it. "Such manners. You never expect that from Fereldans."

"We're not your typical Fereldans," Garrett said, encouraging Bethany to greet Elegant with a quick glance. "We eat like Mabari, rather than ravenous wolves. Plus we're all housebroken and bathe at least once a month."

"Garrett!" Bethany hissed, shooting an apologetic glance at Elegant.

"Twice a month," Garrett amended, and introduced himself and his sister to Elegant, letting Aveline speak for herself.

Athenril, who had busied herself with dousing the lantern and closing the door behind her, returned to the group, and shared a brief, but meaningful gaze with Elegant before lowering herself onto a nearby crate. "You lot will sleep over there, unless you have somewhere better to go," she said, jerking her head towards the wooden shelters. "They don't look like much, but I think you'll find them a lot more palatable than sleeping in a corner on the docks."

"That remains to be seen," muttered Aveline as she crossed the dock to examine the shelters. Bethany glanced nervously between Aveline and Garrett before following her, throwing one uncomfortable look at her brother as he leaned against a crate, fitting in just as easily as always.

"Refugees, then?" The elf at the table, a tall man with pitch-colored eyes and hair to match piped up. "Tough break--at least you're in the city." He examined the cards the other elf left behind, then tossed them onto the table with a scoff. "Fool was winning," he said, addressing Elegant.

"Then we're lucky he still can't read the cards," she replied, then turned again to Garrett. "This is Tomwise. He's also an apothecary, of a sort."

"Less useful if you have gout than Elegant is," he added.

"More useful if you have rats," Athenril said with a grin. Tomwise rolled his eyes with a slight, good-natured smile.

"I provide a necessary service." He said with a touch of amused indignation. "And I've had very prestigious clients." Pushing back the chair he stood and joined the huddled group near the door, moving with a peculiar sort of lanky grace. "I can't be blamed if they don't know the difference between spindleweed and deathroot." He shook hands with Garrett, an odd smile creeping over his face. "Lucky this lot came along--I'm a piss poor at anything that doesn't involve a mortar and pestle and you know it." Tomwise spoke to Athenril, brows slightly raised.

"I was thinking you'd take Garrett with you. He keeps a look out, you do what you do best, and it's a win for everyone."

"Do I get a say?" Garrett asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No. You don't. But there might be a coin or two in it for you if you're not totally useless." Raising her arms over her head, fingers laced, Athenril stretched to her toes.

"What if I'm only half useless?" Garrett grinned.

"Then I make up for your ineptitude, and you don't get any coin." Tomwise returned the grin before nodding politely to Athenril as she and Elegant slipped through the door leading back to Darktown, leaving Garrett with Tomwise, as Bethany and Aveline were still across the docks at the shelters. "There are worse places to be," he said. "Athenril's one of the good ones--a bit prickly, but some of the best plants are."

"See, I thought she was an elf, not a shrub."

"You're going to be difficult, aren't you?" Tomwise crossed his arms over his slim chest, but he was smiling.

"I can be persuaded to be very, very easy, given the right circumstances."

"I'd settle for knowing you'll obey orders." Tomwise reached into the pouch on his belt and slipped a small roll of parchment out of it. "Because we've got a job tonight, you and I." He unrolled the parchment and showed the intricate map written on it to Garrett. "We're going through the Undercity to...keep an eye on the Carta."

"Spy, you mean."

"Crass." Tomwise returned the map to his pouch and took out a small paper wrapped ball the size of a marble, rolling it between his fingers. "There are likely to be guards, which is where I come in. These little beauties make smoke than can put ox to sleep with a single breath. I set these off, and we're golden."

"I'm a _bit_ smaller than an ox. How do I keep myself from passing out if you're filling the Undercity with smoke?"

"You don't work with poison your entire life and live to be a fool." Tomwise rolled his eyes and reached around Garrett, digging a thick mask out of the crate behind him, a small grin creeping up his lips when Garrett stepped back from the sudden, awkward closeness. He pushed the mask against his chest, turning on his heel when Garrett took it. "Don't go anywhere, Hawke."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. We leave at dusk."


End file.
